Real Or Not Real
by Lovely Little Loser
Summary: "You still love Gale. Real or not real?" I chew on my lip when Peeta asks this question, which is far more complicated than the last. There is no straightforward answer to this. My feelings for Gale are real, but my love for him is not.


**A/N: Random Peenis/Galeniss oneshot. Enjoy!**

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><p>"You love me. Real or not real?" I give Peeta a small smile as I clean the dishes from the dinner table. This has always been his favorite question and I know he knows the answer, but he asks it anyway, and as usual I give him the same answer.<p>

"Real," I say as I kiss his forehead and put all the dishes into the kitchen sink. From the window I can see that the sun has officially set and the stars are out. Sometimes it's hard for me to look at a starry sky. I feel like I'm back in the arena, waiting to see how many lives were lost today. But on some nights like tonight, I can. I can look up and maybe all those friends and loved ones lost know that they weren't forgotten. I'll never forget them.

But now I'm thinking about the dead and I can't stan looking at the stars anymore.

"Katniss, I have another question," Peeta says from the table. I walk over to him and give him my attention with a quick nod of my head.

"Yes?" I ask as I continue cleaning. There's not much left to do, but I find that my thoughts are much clearer when I have a mundane task at hand. Peeta is silent and I can feel his eyes on me. It takes a few moments of silence for him to gather his thoughts but he finally does and I wish he hadn't the second he opens his mouth.

"You loved Gale, real or not real?" Peeta asks. I sigh. I promised Peeta years ago that I would never lie to him if he asked me one of these questions. I don't think I could lie to him even if I wanted to. So I reluctantly answer him,

"Real."

"You still love Gale. Real or not real?" I chew on my lip when Peeta asks this question, which is far more complicated than the last. There is no straightforward answer to this. My feelings for Gale are real, but my love for him is not.

Peeta is waiting patiently for me to answer but I'm doing everything I can to avoid his question. And that's not going to work because I'm running out of things to do. The table is clear, and there's less than a dozen plates in the sink.

"I'm going to check on the kids," I say as I walk down the hallway. The kids have been in bed for at least an hour now, but if it'll keep me from answering Peeta, I'll be willing to do most anything.

I first check on our daughter, Chrysanthemum. I wanted to name her Primrose after her late aunt but Peeta was against it. He wanted her to have her own name. Eventually there was compromise. Her middle name is Primrose.

In her bed, Chrysanthemum looks absolutely vulnerable. She's a tiny little thing, but she is very responsible for her young age. I hate to admit it but I see myself in her. She's stubborn and impulsive, but she loves her brother to death, just as I loved my sister. Some nights I have nightmares where she and her brother are both selected to for the Hunger Games. There's not a doubt in my mind that she wouldn't sacrifice herself for her brother.

I leave her room to check on our son. Peeta let me name him, and unlike with Crysyanthemum, there was no argument. His name is Finnick Mellark. Since the day he was born all I see in our son is traces of Finnick Odair. A cheeky grin, a need to be close to others, regardless of personal space boundaries, but also something deep and comforting in his little eyes. When he's older I'll tell him why his name was chosen.

"Katniss." Peeta is standing behind me and I nearly scream from shock. I hate when people sneak up on me, which has become increasingly easier now that I'm always lost in my thoughts.

"Yes Peeta?" I ask.

"You never answered my question. Real, or not real?" I sigh as I push past him. I should know better than to run from my problems but it's worked for years so there's no point in trying to break old habits.

"Go to sleep Peeta," I say. I can hear Peeta's footsteps behind me as I go to sit on the living room couch. He's not going to let this go any time soon and my reluctance to answer is not making the situation any better.

"Answer me first," he retorts. "Please."

"What is there to answer?" I demand. "I haven't spoken to Gale in years. Real. He left after the war. Real. He might have killed my sister. Real. And I love you Peeta Mellark. Real." But this isn't enough because Peeta is glaring at me and I know what's coming next but no matter how much I brace myself it still kills me when he asks the same question over again.

"I love you. Real. You love me. Real. But you still love Gale too. Real or not real?" And I'm holding my breath because I know no matter what I say I will be betraying one of them. And even though it's been years since I've seen Gale and he might be the reason Prim is dead; even though we had so much history and he did everything he could to protect me, I can't decide what outweighs what.

I am not sure what is real and what is not.

And even though I know for Peeta's sake I should say not real, there is a part of me that wants to say real, though I'm not sure how dominant that part is. So when he reaches for my hand and opens his mouth I make my decision.

"Real or not real?"

And I look Peeta in the eyes and answer him.


End file.
